


Eclipsed Expectations

by liquidheartbeats2



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:14:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28165320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liquidheartbeats2/pseuds/liquidheartbeats2
Summary: After Barry Allen loses permanently his sight in an accident, everything in his life changes - including his relationship with Iris West.
Relationships: Barry Allen/Iris West
Comments: 10
Kudos: 50





	Eclipsed Expectations

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally intended to be a one shot, but I think this story needs three chapters. So this will be a mini-multichap I work on in between other stories. Hope you enjoy, please let me know what you think!

There were exactly 152 steps between STAR Lab’s entrance and the shortest route to the cortex. If Barry stayed in line with the front door, instead of straying off course, it was a near-straight shot, minus one sharp right turn after the 56th step. 

After that, there were 90 more steps down a long corridor. 

One more left turn, through the door, and a few steps later he would be at his seat at the control station, next to Cisco. 

It had taken Barry over a week to return to STAR Labs after his diagnosis, but now, a week more after that, he had it all down pact . 

How many steps to the nearest bathroom, how many twists and turns until he got to Cisco’s lab; then how many more until he got to the fully-stocked snack cuddy, just across the hall. 

_Twenty-six more steps until the cortex. Twenty five more steps. Twenty four, twenty-three, twenty two, twenty-one more steps._

When there were just twenty steps left, Barry noted the beginnings of the rubber carpet underneath his feet that lined the hallway. Cisco had it installed during his early days as The Flash. It was grating to walk on, at normal speeds, but provided the tread a returning speedster needed to stop without skidding into a wall.

Barry frowned. 

He always hated the way that damn rug felt under his feet, but hated more that he didn't, personally, have a need for it anymore. 

But Barry could have honestly stopped counting ages ago. This close, Cisco's laughter or, at times, frustrated groans from being killed in whatever video game he played during downtime, always guided him to his destination.

Tonight was no different.

Just as Barry reached the door, he stopped and held out a hand, beckoning Iris in before him. She'd been trailing closely behind him with his cane, which he refused to use, but that she kept close by just in case.

As she'd done the past week, she stopped next to him, leaned up on her tiptoes and kissed him, pressing firmly her hands into his shoulders -- something she never did before the accident that had left him blind. A gesture which he knew she thought was anchoring her proximity to him in a way he could observe, but it only reminded him of his condition. 

The careful clacking of her heels in front of him let him know that she was looking back at him, in case he stumbled or drifted off course. But she never intervened, unless absolutely necessary. 

Something he was grateful for. 

Finally, at the control station, Barry pulled the computer chair from underneath the desk and took a seat. 

Cisco, who’d been zoned out, heard the noise accompanied by their arrival and turned to Barry and patted his shoulder. “There’s my favorite couple.”

Barry, unable to hide his annoyance, pinched his lips shut tight, grateful that his sunglasses shielded Cisco from his rolling eyes. 

People were always touching him now. Whether to guide him to a destination or to alert him of their presence. 

He wanted to jump out of his skin.

“Hey,” Barry said, attempting to match Cisco’s upbeat tone, but falling just flat. “Any new crime today?" He asked to change the subject. 

Cisco laughed. “Nothing worth breaking out my leather for.”

Barry sighed, loudly, and Cisco noted immediately his disapproval. 

Since losing his vision, Barry had had to not only resign as a CSI but also hang up his Flash suit. 

Managing the comms at STAR Labs was his way of contributing something -- anything -- to the Team. 

“It’s probably for the best,” Cisco offered, “Wally has his finals today and he’s going to flunk out if he leaves again.”

“Oh, right.” Barry said, remembering that his brother-in-law, who’d essentially taken up his Flash mantle, had a life outside of his heroics. He’d stepped up, selflessly, as soon as Barry was out of commission, though the adjustment had been great, for all involved. 

For all of Wally’s raw speed, he was still very new to the whole full-time speedster thing. He was still learning the ropes. Plus, he was beyond a little cocky, which made trying to direct him a headache and a half. Things had gotten tense on more than one occasion, over the comms. 

Even though Barry couldn’t see anymore, he had five years worth of experience as The Flash and, therefore, plenty of advice to offer Wally, though getting him to accept said advice was akin to pulling teeth. 

Cisco, though he had different powers, was more than receptive to accepting Barry’s help. In the past, he’d helped Barry, here and there, but wasn’t used to being a full-time hero either. 

For Barry, as the senior speedster, it had made zero sense for Wally or anyone else to be on call 24/7. 

But things had changed. 

Barry tilted his head back against the neck rest of his computer chair, mindlessly interwinding his fingers together. 

The silence that fell over the lab was loud and screeching. 

Like the subtle show of emotion had sucked the life out of the room, but Barry didn’t know how else to react. 

He wasn’t so deep into despair over the life he could have had to think that being blind made him less of a person, of a man, of a hero. Yet, those thoughts crept over him like a bad dream at the most inopportune times. 

He could imagine the looks of pity shooting between Cisco and Iris as they watched someone they loved relay so much with a simple gesture. 

That he was feeling lost, hopeless, that he didn’t know which way was up without being able to use his speed. 

Barry sighed again, then pushed himself up from his computer chair. 

He heard the sound of his cane scraping the floor, a clear signal that Iris had shot up immediately. He raised a hand in her direction and flashed her a thin smile - all he could manage. 

"I’m just going across the hall, I’ll be fine," he said reassuringly. Though he felt more unsure than he ever had in his life. 

Though, not about crossing the hall.

Thankfully, she didn’t fight him audibly. 

And if Iris was trailing him covertly she’d taken her heels off so he couldn't hear her.

****************************************

Iris watched Barry closely, heels in hand, as he left the room.

She knew each slow, methodical step of his was accompanied by a corresponding number in his head. It was amazing, the way he’d mapped out the building so quickly after losing his vision. 

He walked to the break room, across -- yet down -- the hall with perfect precision, never even coming close to almost walking into the wall or scraping the doorway. And yet, she couldn’t push down the overwhelming urge she had to walk behind him and make sure he was okay. 

When walking in tandem, it was easy for her to quarterback his motions, but when he clearly expressed his destination, while she was on the other side of the room, she knew any efforts to hurry over to him would come across as infantile. But it wasn’t just his physical well-being she was concerned with; she wanted to comfort his heart, too. 

But she didn’t know how anymore. 

He’d cried only once since he’d learned that his “temporary blindness” was permanent and irreversible -- somewhat of an anomaly for a man whose body was in a constant state of cellular regeneration, but his test results had all come back completely normal, according to Caitlin.

But one thing was certain: his vision wouldn’t be coming back. 

Iris had barely had enough time to shuffle The Team from the room before Barry’s dams gave way. His sobs started low, in the pit of his stomach, gurgling, building, expanding, until they spilled out into the air, so loud that Iris feared someone would hear and call the cops. His body faltered next, hunched over, face tucked inside of his palms.

She’d rushed over to him, holding his body close as he’d cried, fighting to not buckle underneath the weight of his misery. Because, how could she be okay if the person responsible for a big chunk of her happiness was being crushed under a big, black dark cloud. 

But as much it had hurt to hear him in such pain, this distant, shallow sorrow he’d settled into was worse. 

He wasn’t The Flash anymore, he wasn’t a CSI anymore. And while he was still every bit of the great man she loved, that his friends and family loved, the things he’d defined himself by for so long were now out of his reach. 

Barry was withdrawn now, there but not there, present by not present. Like a shell, long abandoned by the living creature that used to call it home. Iris knew that he would eventually find his way again, but this period of transition was filled with uncertainty, anxiety. 

She stood in the doorway of the cortex continuing to watch as he reached out to feel the couch in front him, then settled onto it, laid flat onto his back, inside of the break room. He then pulled his phone from his pocket, put in his earbuds and alerted Alexa to open spotify.

Iris sighed, turning back to the cortex. 

She wanted to try to comfort him, in some way, but she didn’t know if she provided him with any comfort anymore.

The only time Barry seemed even mildly content -- because happiness didn't seem to be an option anymore-- was when he was directing Cisco and Wally on how to fight crimes, over the comms.

When Iris reached the control station, Cisco reached underneath the desk and offered her a snacksized bag of chocolate covered Oreos. He’d also been having a hard time expressing how this major change in their lives was affecting him, but he’d been an unmovable rock for Iris. 

“Thanks,” she said, flopping into the seat Barry had been. 

“No problem. You look like you could use pick me up,” he whispered, leaning in close so only Iris could hear. He never knew when Barry shut off his music, and he didn’t want to be insensitive. “Is he..”

Iris sighed, pushing her hair behind her ears. “Okay? No. Functional, yes. But he’s not Barry right now. So I'm not okay,” she said, voice quaking like a gentle eartquake. “And I know it’s going to take some time, but he won’t talk to me about what he’s feeling, and I feel so disconnected from him”

Cisco looked on to Iris with kindred understanding. 

He, too, had noticed a change in his best friend, but he knew that from Iris’ vantage point, it was even more heartbreaking. Barry was to Iris what Iris was to Barry: the reason for getting up every morning. 

“He won’t talk to me either, but I keep hoping he’ll come around.” 

“Me too,” Iris said, sinking further into her chair. “But I don’t know...”

Cisco grabbed Iris’s arm, gently. “He will. Eventually. But you have to hold on until he does; otherwise he won’t make it.”

Iris nodded, lips pinched, “I know. I know.”

Cisco caught his tongue in his bottom lip, careful deliberation showing on his face.

"What?" Iris beckoned. "You can ask me anything.” Cisco shot Iris a careful glance; she arched her brows, overcome with unease. “Almost.”

“Well,” he started carefully, “How are things at home?.”

Iris’s brows dropped, the uncomfortable anticipation of having to answer something possibly personal faded away. 

Still, her expression morphed into one of dread, and suddenly it was her own words stalled in her throat. Before she could jar them loose, she heard the pitter-patter of feet approaching from behind. 

She turned just in time to see Barry approaching. 

“You okay, Barr?” She asked, hoping he hadn’t the former line of conversation.

“Yeah, just wondering if you can drive me home since there’s no crime today. I’m kind of tired.” 

Iris tilted her head, simpering on his stoic face. She knew him asking her to drive him places wasn't easy. He used to be able to come and go as he pleased, zipping around the world if he wanted without more than a few seconds passing.“Of course, baby,” she said, standing, looking back at Cisco, who noticed the defeat in both of their stances. Iris hadn’t finished her sentence, but he could tell from her face that their “home” life obviously wasn’t what it used to be. 

But there was no time to talk about that now. “We’ll see you later, Cisco alright?” Iris said, patting her friend on the shoulder. 

He nodded at her somberly, replying with: “Okay. Talk to you later guys.”

****************************************

Navigating his place of residence was not quite as simple as navigating STAR labs. All of the essential rooms in STAR labs were on the main floor. 

But Barry and Iris lived in a loft at the very top of their building. 

Thanks to the uniform design of the stairwells, Barry could have easily gripped the handle and used his speed to zip up the floors of stairs before making it to the 14th floor where he and Iris lived. But now it wasn’t the smartest option. He never knew who might be around to see him speeding past them. And if he thought his enemies finding out his identity would have been bad before, it would be a death sentence for him now while he wasn’t as equipped to fight back. 

Plus, Barry couldn’t reliably speed Iris up the stairs anymore. 

He took chances -- here and there -- with his own mortality, but he wouldn’t risk overshooting or undershooting and slamming her into the wall. And since she would never leave him to walk up 14 flights of stairs alone (or accompany him because she didn’t have the endurance he did), he had to use the elevator, which he’d always hated. 

Even from before. 

Now, even more so. 

Barry filed into the elevator behind Iris behind and leaned his weight back against the rails He pushed his sunglasses up the bridge of his nose, and resigned his head backward, up towards the ceiling. He assumed they were alone, because he'd not heard Iris greet anyone nor heard anyone greet them in return.

He heard Iris press the button for their floor, then the clack of her heels as she, too, settled against the rail. Her fingers brushed over his hand gently, silence filling the cabin. He pressed his eyes tight, before slinking his hand over her own. She reciprocated by squeezing his in return. 

He imagined a dichotomous expression on her face. One filled with a glimmer of hope, and a bucket of pity for him. 

The elevator jolted shortly after, whisking them up the fourteen floors, and away from his thoughts.

When the motion stopped, and the mechanical doors opened, Iris released his hand and walked out in front of him. He followed behind her, slow, yet steady. There was a straight shot from the elevator to their apartment. 

Maybe 100 or so steps. 

But he didn’t usually count these steps. 

There was a lack of urgency in returning home that wasn’t present when he was heading to head the comms at STAR Labs. 

Out and about, Barry felt like he was walking towards something; a purpose, a productive place in the world. For a few hours a day, he had a temporary break from remembering how little his life resembled the one he led before. Even with his limits, he felt useful, not like a burden. 

But heading back home, his feet dragged. 

Each step was one step closer to drowning in the loud silence of the home he shared with his wife, with Iris. 

A woman who he’d go to the ends of the earth for, who was his only source of happiness anymore. Even if it was fleeting. 

A woman, who was now the primary caretaker of an otherwise healthy a 29-year-old man. Because, no matter how self-sufficient he was attempting to become, there were some things he hadn’t gotten the hang of yet. 

Like cooking safely. Cleaning - without accidentally mixing dangerous chemicals. Doing laundry without dyeing all their whites, red and pink. 

Before, he and Iris shared these tasks. 

Now all of that fell on her. 

On top of that, she still had her job at CCPN.

There were no words to express just how much he loved and appreciated her, for taking all of this own without complaining - not even once. For how sorry he was that this was their life now. That the young, vibrant man she married, who wanted to share the burden of living, who wanted to protect her, who wanted to make _her_ life easier, was adding to her stress. 

At the door, Barry heard the jingle or Iris’s keys as she opened the door. He heard her step forwards into the apartment and stash his cane in the corner. She knew that if he wouldn’t use it in public, he definitely wouldn’t use it in their home. 

He stepped through, next, and started to remove his jacket. He heard the door close and lock latch, then felt her hands on his body pushing the fabric down shoulders and off of his body. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” 

Iris stepped away from him, to hang the jacket up on the rack, and Barry walked further into the loft, heading for the kitchen for one of the special smoothies Caitlin had concocted for him. 

Barry still had the speed force coursing through him, so his body still metabolized at a higher level than the average person. But he didn’t need quite as much food as before because he wasn’t running 100s of miles a day anymore. He could survive, quite happily, on three-five calorie dense meals and a few snacks. And these smoothies, which equaled two meals in one, were a great convenient caloric pick-me-up when he didn’t feel like ordering takeout or asking Iris to cook him dinner. 

As Barry exited the kitchen, he heard Iris approaching. 

“Oh, you’re having another smoothie for dinner,” she said, slightly downtrodden. 

“Yeah, they’re easy given everything. You know,” he replied, voice light but thin. 

“I know," Iris said carefully, "But you cannot survive on smoothies forever.” 

He could tell that she was trying to not push too hard, but her discontent was clear in his voice. 

“I know, not forever. But I’m not very hungry right now.”

She sighed and he sighed, just not so she could hear. It was an internal sigh, loud and ravenous. “Fine,” she said, quickly relenting. “But you will eat tomorrow? With me? I miss having dinner with you. Do -"

_Do I miss having dinner with you? I miss everything we used to do. I miss when our life was normal.  
_

“Yes,” he said immediately. “Yes, we’ll have dinner together tomorrow.”

“At the table? With plates and forks and silverware?” She said, a sweet hopefulness in her voice. 

Barry couldn’t help the smile that crept over his face. She’d been so understanding with him, but even he knew his sulking had reached pathetic lengths. Her periodic insistence always pulled him up, even if it didn't last long .“Yes, honey. Dinner with plates. Silverware. Napkins too! ” he said, with more pep than he’d had since his accident. 

If he knew Iris like he thought, then she was standing, eyes gleaming with her hands clasped cheesily together. Probably with a blinding smile on her face, one that could turn any head in any room.Sinful, succulent lips, perfect, pearly white teeth. But it was her spirit, that shined through in her smile, that made it really special. She would have been just as beautiful without it, but it elevated her to a plane so high, he couldn’t help but marvel, worship. 

His own lips curled upward into a smile -- a real on -- one born from genuine happiness -- but it faltered just as fast as the realization that he’d never again see it with his own eyes, on this side of heaven, crashed down onto him like the first wave of tsunami. And just like the violent force of a vengeful ocean, tears spilled down his face in droves. 

The smile that had nursed him back from bruises gotten from playground fights, the death of his mother, Joe's apathy towards him, right after he moved in with them, the teenage growing pains, college, his trials and tribulations as The Flash, losing his father -- every single bad thing that had ever happened to him in his life, Iris's smile, her love for him had gotten him through it. The closest thing in the world to cut through his scientific skepticism of the divine, because her smile was proof that God once roamed the earth, her smile was proof of the divine in the flesh. 

And yet, he'd never be able to look upon it again. 

Barry's stomach turned, inward on itself, flipping, stretching, contorting against his other organs, pushing bile up his esophagus. He pressed a hand into his stomach, swallowing hard to push it back down. 

“Barr, baby what's wrong?” 

He let out a resigned sigh, remembering that he wasn't alone in the room Barry pushed his hand up underneath sunglasses, wiping his tears away at once. "Nothing," he said, rather unconvincingly. "I'm fine."

It was a pointless, almost insulting, lie, but he didn't want to do this tonight. Still, he heard Iris rush over, the clack of her heels swapped out for the dull thumping against bare feet against hardwood floors. He heard her sniffle, a clear sign she, too, would be -- or already was -- crying. 

He turned his body at once, but she caught him with ease, using her body to cut his motions off. "No,' she said, direct, voice filled with sobs. "Tell me. Please," she pleaded. "I can't help you if you don't talk to me." 

Iris reached up and pressed her hands onto his tear-slicked face. He nearly relented, the feel of her hands making him want to lean into her, but her motions caused his sunglasses shift upward. Reflexively, he pushed them back down, re-covering his eyes, moving her hands down in the process. 

"Baby, please," she whispered, over her sobs, "I...please. Talk to me....let me in."


End file.
